


Red

by CarolPeletier



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:36:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4310799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolPeletier/pseuds/CarolPeletier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl doing what Daryl loves to do when he and Carol are alone together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead.

Prompt by anonymous.

Red

He watches her.  He’s always watched her for as long as he’d known her.  It wasn’t long ago that he’d though she might break, she’d been so frail.  But she hadn’t broken.  In fact, she’d almost broken him.

She smiles at him, as he closes the door of her room.  His room is down the hall, but he hasn’t seen it in over a month.  He’s always with her, and he knows she’s come to expect him at night, after the rest of the house is sleeping, after the safe zone goes dark. 

He opens the window, letting the cool air in, turning to see her watching him.  His hands shake and his mouth goes dry as he moves across the room, watching her.  He can’t take his eyes off of her.  Sometimes, he can’t believe she’s his.  That he’s hers.  No declarations have been made, no confirmations of something there between them.  It’s just what it is, and it works for them, and he’s hungry for her, as she pulls back the sheets on her bed.

He doesn’t undress, like he knows she’s expecting.  Instead, he pulls himself into the bed, crawling over her, kissing her lips with a tenderness that makes her gasp.  He shivers at the feel of her warm breath against his skin, and he paces his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply.  She smells like heaven to him. 

He’s still a little rusty at this game.  Sex before the Turn was just something to pass the time, to relieve some sort of frustration after a night of drinking.  Sex with Carol is much more than that.  She fascinates him.  The way her eyes darken when his hand moves down her thigh.  The way her mouth parts and her pretty pink tongue wets her lips.  The way she shakes, as he lifts her shirt, kissing her stomach and making her muscles jump.  Every bit of her is delicious. 

He especially likes the way her cheeks turn red, the way her neck and chest flushes when he goes down on her.  He loves the taste of her, loves the scent of her, loves the way she arches into the bed when his tongue pushes inside of her.

And it’s what he’s set on tonight.  He looks into her eyes, that Cheshire grin spreading over his face, making her blush, as he moves down the bed, tugging at the drawstring of her sleep pants.  He watches the way her eyelids flutter closed and her teeth clamp down on her lower lip, as he shrugs the pants down her thighs, scraping his fingers at her hips to catch her panties and bring them down, too.

“Daryl,” she whispers, as his hand moves up her stomach and under her shirt, brushing over a bare breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers.  He watches the rise and fall in her chest, as he dips a finger inside of her.  He loves that she’s already soaked for him, already glistening, muscles fluttering around his digits as he pushes another inside. 

He kisses her stomach then, tongue dancing out to trace along her navel.  He smiles, when her hips buck as his teeth gently scrape over the patch of skin under her stomach.  He tastes her there.  Sometimes her skin is salty after a long day in the hot summer sun.  Tonight, it’s just her, fresh out of the shower, and he doesn’t care either way, but he knows she’s more self-confident after a shower.

He moves lower then, pressing a soft kiss against her curls, eyes fixed on her face as it begins to flush red.  Her legs shake, as his hands spread them, gently kneading her thighs.  He gently strokes her ankles, wordlessly letting her know to keep her feet still.  She gasps, knowing what’s coming, and he adjusts himself on the bed, placing a kiss to her thigh before moving his hand, stroking her clit, his hand slick with her fluids.  Her scent is special to her.  He’s done this before, years ago because a girl asked him to, but he’s never enjoyed it the way he enjoys doing it with Carol.  He loves the way her head falls back against the pillow at the first flick of his thumb across her clit. He loves the way she moans, bunching her fingers into the sheets, and sometimes, when she can reach, into his hair, urging him on.

She’s shy at first, he knows, and he takes his time until she’s begging him to continue, and he bides his time, stroking her until he hears that gust of breath leave her lungs, and she arches upward to look at him.

“Daryl,” she pleads, as his breath hits her core.  “Please.”  He smiles, and the redness intensifies, and he feels his cock grow.  He pumps his hips into the mattress a few times, the friction nearly taking him over, but it’s about her. He always wants it to be about her, because she’s done more for him than anybody in his entire life has ever done.  And he wants her to know just what she means to him.  And he loves it.  He loves tasting her and stroking her almost as much as he loves fucking her.

He tastes her then, tongue and lips teasing at her sensitive flesh, his senses flooded with her taste, her scent, her warmth.  He closes his eyes then, relishing the moment, listening to the way her breaths come in soft gasps, the way her knuckles crack as she threads her fingers into the sheets, squeezing, finding purchase there as her thighs tremble against his ears.

He plunges his tongue inside her, feeling her walls fluttering around him, hearing a stifled moan, music to his ears as his own body flushes with heat. His fingers and tongue and lips work in unison, slow at first, lavishing her with touches and strokes and licks, building pressure as her cries become louder, more urgent.  And then he feels her shaking, feels the way her body has tensed.  She’s holding her breath, he realizes, and he places his hands on her hips, holding her down, circling her clit with his tongue until a sob escapes, leading the way of a heady moan, and then he’s tasting her on his tongue, and he’s lapping her up, moaning his own pleasure as she pants and trembles beneath him.  Then she’s tugging gently at his hair, letting him know she’s too sensitive now, and he moves back up, kissing her hungrily, letting her taste herself, and she moans too.  And he loves every moment.  This is his escape.  She’s everything. He feels everything when he’s with her, and it’s something he’s still not quite used to, but the way his head swims is incredible.  He feels happy, certain, and he wants to spend whatever time they have left helping her feel it, too.


End file.
